This week's parsha
Unless otherwise noted, "This week's Parsha" comprises articles taken from contributors to the Chabad.org website. We show the original author's name here, so that proper attribution is given. For the sake of brevity, footnotes cited in the original author's writings are omitted from this website. If you need to see the citations, please refer to the original articles on the Chabad.org website.
The Greatest Miracle of All
Miracles, miracles, and more miracles. That is the story of this week's Torah portion. Sticks transforming into serpents; water turning into blood; hail pellets with a core of fire; dreadful plagues of frogs, lice, wild beasts, pestilence and boils.
"Fairy tales," declares the skeptic. "Isn't it so convenient that all these miracles happened more than three thousand years ago? I'll believe it when I see it with my own eyes! Why didn't G-d send Ten Plagues upon the Nazis? What's with all the terrorists who blow up men, women and children? Did G-d perhaps forget how to make miracles?!"
The believing Jew, too, asks the same questions -- albeit in a more respectful tone. Yes, he understand that G-d controls nature as well as the super-natural, but why did G-d choose to flip the switch, deciding to abandon the course of miracles, and run the world entirely through the laws of nature?
"Fairy tales," declares the skeptic. "Isn't it so convenient that all these miracles happened more than three thousand years ago? I'll believe it when I see it with my own eyes! Why didn't G-d send Ten Plagues upon the Nazis? What's with all the terrorists who blow up men, women and children? Did G-d perhaps forget how to make miracles?!"
The believing Jew, too, asks the same questions -- albeit in a more respectful tone. Yes, he understand that G-d controls nature as well as the super-natural, but why did G-d choose to flip the switch, deciding to abandon the course of miracles, and run the world entirely through the laws of nature?
Where Were You?
"Where were you?" Whether the question is from Mom, the boss, the wife, the husband or the grown children; they are not asking, they are accusing: Why weren't you where you were supposed to be?
Your answer is an excuse. Unless you answer "I've been here the whole time."
A shepherd sees a little lamb run off. The shepherd runs after the lamb: to save it from wolves, to ensure the lamb has enough water and enough tender green grass.
While chasing the lamb, he sees a bush on fire, but it isn't burning. He takes off his shoes in deference. He is told by He-knows-who to go free the people from Pharaoh.
But they will ask me Your name, what do I say? asks the shepherd. A bizarre question matched by an equally perplexing answer: tell them my name is I Will Be As I Will Be. (It is the first recorded conversation between the world's greatest teacher and the world's foremost student.)
Your answer is an excuse. Unless you answer "I've been here the whole time."
A shepherd sees a little lamb run off. The shepherd runs after the lamb: to save it from wolves, to ensure the lamb has enough water and enough tender green grass.
While chasing the lamb, he sees a bush on fire, but it isn't burning. He takes off his shoes in deference. He is told by He-knows-who to go free the people from Pharaoh.
But they will ask me Your name, what do I say? asks the shepherd. A bizarre question matched by an equally perplexing answer: tell them my name is I Will Be As I Will Be. (It is the first recorded conversation between the world's greatest teacher and the world's foremost student.)
Live With Death; Die With Life
If you want to know what a bureaucracy does, suggests PJ O'Rourke, watch it when it does nothing. If you want to know what people think about life, watch them when death sticks out his calling card.
Many act like it ain't happening. They dress the dead in tuxes and ballroom dresses and do the dead's hair and apply them with make-up. We're here to celebrate a life, they chirp, while the elephant in the room swishes his large head.
They exchange stories of (I'm not making this up) the deceased's delicious flanken and chicken soup (we called them Godzilla balls!) and they solemnly vow to keep the condo in Boca "because Dad loved the water". But this ignoring of death is not simply ignorance; this ignoring speaks of a deep, silent fear: a fear of the unknown.
Many act like it ain't happening. They dress the dead in tuxes and ballroom dresses and do the dead's hair and apply them with make-up. We're here to celebrate a life, they chirp, while the elephant in the room swishes his large head.
They exchange stories of (I'm not making this up) the deceased's delicious flanken and chicken soup (we called them Godzilla balls!) and they solemnly vow to keep the condo in Boca "because Dad loved the water". But this ignoring of death is not simply ignorance; this ignoring speaks of a deep, silent fear: a fear of the unknown.